


Safety and Peace

by EveryDayBella



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassins In Love, Cats, Fluff, Free Running, Hurt/Comfort, I COULDN'T HELP IT, I'm Sorry, Love, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Language, Peace, Pet Names, Safety, Storms, altair is a softie, and Malik is a grumpy cat, the hook and the blade, there are two parts to the hookblade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDayBella/pseuds/EveryDayBella
Summary: This is the proof that they're both still alive.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. It is I bringing trash to a new fandom. 
> 
> LOL but no seriously, I started playing Assassins Creed over the summer and fell head over heels in love. I love those games so much. I'm gonna get a PS4 just so I can play Syndicate. LOL This came pouring out one weekend a couple months ago. I've been sitting on it since then until I decided to publish it. If you wanna leave some love I would of course appreciate it, but I hope you enjoy my little fic about Assassins in love. <3
> 
> Also my love to MyHerion and Angelycdevil for their help and hand holding and getting me into AC and listening to me natter on about it respectably. I love you guys. Mwah!

**Safety and Peace**

 

 

Malik has no idea where the cat came from. It simply appeared one day, sitting on the edge of the fountain, licking it’s paw and surveying the courtyard as if he already owned it. It’s white fur would at least make help it blend in with the bureau occasional inhabitants. 

 

After a moment, the cat leaped from the fountain and began prowling around the edges of the courtyard. Malik had no idea what the animal had spotted, but he knew a hunt when he saw one. The bunched muscles ready to leap at a moments notice, sharp eyes flicking back and forth, taking in it’s surroundings, and the slow stalk as it tracked  prey. Malik had grown up surrounded by hunters. It wasn’t hard to notice another. 

 

The Assassins had always been compared to birds. the great, wheeling eagles and falcons in particular. It wasn’t hard to understand why when you watched a master take a Leap of Faith, to fall through the air with poise and grace as if they had grown wings. Anyone who had been unlucky enough to catch their last glimpse of a white robed body leaping from the roof would say in the after the life that they were birds of prey, striking at the perfect moment with sharp, judicus claws. 

 

Malik had always preferred a different comparison. Yes, they were birds; fearless and masters of their own element. The graceful movements, the stalking, the patience and poise—those had always reminded him of cats. 

 

Maybe that was why he didn’t shoo the cat out of his space. At least it would keep the rats away. 

 

* * *

 

 

The real fun with the cat didn’t began until the next time Altaїr fell through the grating in the roof. Malik heard him land lightly on his feet, but didn’t look up from his own work. Altaїr would come to him when he was ready. 

 

After a moment, when there was no sound or movement, Malik let the worry overcome him. It wouldn’t be the first time Altaїr had fallen through his roof and not gotten up. Malik was secretly terrified of those occasions. Seeing the normally strong, defiant Altaїr crumpled on his floor was a sight Malik could do without seeing ever again. 

 

When he looked up, there was a sigh of relief to see Altaїr crouched on the floor, his robes stained tan by sand and dirt, but no sign of blood or misplaced limbs. 

 

Instead, Malik scowled when he saw what held the assassins rapt attention. 

 

“Altaїr.”

 

The only response he got was a half hearted grunt. Altaїr never took his eyes from the cat, perched on the fountain as it always was. Amber eyes stared into green eyes with unflinching scrutiny. 

 

“Altaїr, it is a cat.” When he got no reply, Malik sighed and turned back to his map. “Novice.”

 

It was a long while later before Malek felt a presence at his desk. He didn’t have to look up to know Alteir was leaning on the other side, no doubt studying the map Malik was working on. “Did you finish asserting your dominance over the cat?”

 

Malik peaked long enough to watch Altair shrug. “We came to an agreement.”

 

“And what would be that be?”

 

“He is allowed to stay as long as he is not lazy. He looks a little fat.”

 

“You know it is my bureau, yes?”

 

Even the shadow of the assassins hood can’t hide the curl of his lips. “I simply want to make sure that you’re safe here, habibi.”

 

Malik struggles  to keep his unimpressed mask on against the warmth spreading underneath his skin. It seemed like not all that long ago that he would rather shove a dagger between Alteїr’s ribs than look the man in the eye. 

 

“The cat is better company than you are.” 

 

Altaїr chuckled, a warm rich sound echoed across the room. 

 

* * *

 

 

It doesn’t rain often in Jerusalem, but when it does, it pours. It drives everyone inside, shuts down the markets, and makes it nearly impossible to do any kind of business. 

 

Including the assassin business. 

 

Fortunately, the only assassin currently in the city as far as Malik knows is Altaїr. It means there’s just the two of them to retreat inside the limited space of the bureau from the downpour in the courtyard.

 

Well, them and the cat. 

 

Said cat was currently balanced on the counter amongst the detritus of Malik’s work. It’s green eyes were focused unwavering on the assassin below. Altaїr was trapped inside with the rest of them. The roofs were dangerous to run across with everything so wet, and there was no one out on the streets anyway. 

 

At the least the assassin was using his surprise downtime wisely. Across the floor, Altaїr had spread his weapons and was taking his time cleaning and sharpening each blade. He was currently taking apart the hidden blade, cleaning the mechanism so that it moved swiftly and silently at his command. Even sitting on the floor, doing something as simple as cleaning his weapons, there was power in his every movement. A tiger sitting in a cage.

 

When Malik caught himself looking and daydreaming about Altaїr’s fingers, he shook himself with a scowl. 

 

“See something you need, Malik?” Altaїr had his hood down, so there is no hiding the smirk the assassin sends Malik’s way. 

 

Malik scowled, refusing to give away how attractive Malik found Altaїr’s fingers. The assassin didn’t need that ego boost. “Go back to your work, novice.”

 

Altaїr chucked, but followed Malik’s instructions. Soon the room was filled again with the sound of rain on roof, Malik’s quill scratching on paper, and Altaїr’s blade scraping along a wet stone. 

 

Malik isn’t sure if was the dullness of his own work, or the calming influence of the rain, but he again finds his eyes drifting to Altaїr. Like the cat, he watches at the other man work. Altaїr remains focused- his amber eyes trained on the edge of the blade he’s sharpening. With smooth, controlled movements, he moves the blade along the wet stone, grinding the edge down till its razor sharp. 

 

There’s a bright bloom of envy in Malik’s gut for a moment. Altaїr made the motions look so easy. It was effortless to drag the edge along the smooth stone held in his other hand. That was the problem. It was easy when you had two hands. It was real work if you only had one. 

 

Malik shook himself before he could wander too far down those dark roads. Pity and anger would do neither him nor Altaїr any good. The past was the past and should stay the past. 

 

When he looks back at the lone assassin, he finds Altaїr’s attention has wavered. The blade lays lax in his hand, wet stone in the other, and his eyes focused out the door to the drowned courtyard beyond. Altaїr’s face is utterly unreadable except to a very few. Even Malik, as well as he knows him, has trouble reading Altaїr. It takes a moment to decipher the look in his eyes, the line of his lips. Malik almost doesn’t believe it when sees  longing reflecting in his eyes. 

 

Altaїr always seemed so far above everyday things or emotions. When your feet have left the Earth, and you’ve shored like an eagle, even if just for a moment, it makes everything else seem small. 

 

Malik’s earlier analogy of a tiger in a cage comes to mind. Assassins take great care to train the impatience out of themselves in order to sit perfectly still and wait for the right moment to strike. At the moment, he’s caged by rain, kept contained by nature. But maybe, just maybe, Malik is willing to concede that Altaїr is in a cage much larger than the one made by rain. 

 

Altaїr, the Eagle of Masyaf, was never intended to have his wings clipped. He may have done it through his own hubris, but a caged bird was still a caged bird. The great and mighty Altaїr reduced the Al Mualim’s toy bird, singing only as he’s told. 

 

That Malik can understand. He’d hated this bureau when he’d first been sent there. He’d still been mourning Kadar. Still struggling to adjust to the loss of this arm. Still bitter with the loss of a future he’d always dreamed of. Still angry with Altaїr. When he’d first come to Jerusalem, it had felt like the walls were closing in on him. Though, he had come to appreciate his new role, he had forgiven Altaїr, and found a new purpose, there were still days when he wished he was anywhere but here. 

 

Malik sighed, and since he wasn’t getting anything done anyway, he moved from his counter to sit next to Altaїr. It was enough to draw Altaїr from his mind. At the very least, they could share the cage. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you certain you want to do this?” Altaїr’s voice was flat and even, but Malik can see lines of worry snaking around the assassin’s eyes. 

 

In response, Malik adjusted the grip on the handle of his sword. The sunlight flooding the courtyard was reflecting off both his blade and the one gripped lightly in Altaїr’s hand. The fountain bubbled away cheerfully and bureau was hidden enough from the hustle and bustle of the streets that it felt like a world away. Here it was just him and Altaїr in the only kind of safety the life of an assassin can expect. 

 

“I am never going to know how much skill I have gotten back until I test it against a real opponent. You may be a novice, but you’re all I have.”

 

Under the shadow of his hood, Altaїr still looked uncertain. Malik sighed and decided that he was going to have to be goaded into this. “Winner gets to fuck the other tonight.”

 

The challenge was finally enough to light a fire in Altaїr’s eyes. He shifted into a fighting stance, raising his blade in front of him and grinned. The air between them sparked with something new, something exciting and dangerous all at once. “If you wish.” Altaїr mummered. “But don’t blame me if you can’t walk tomorrow.”

 

Rather than reply to the taunt, Malik struck. The sword was heavy is his only hand, and that only increased when Altaїr applied pressure with his own. Malik held on, and then turned the drive back on Altaїr. 

 

There was no denying that Altaїr has the advantage here. He was faster, better balanced, and stronger than Malik. Most importantly, he hadn’t had to relearn his technique from scratch. Life is much harder with one hand, but Malik was determined to not be trapped within these walls for the rest of his life. He’s spent hours relearning how to fight alone in this room and this was his first real test. Could he bet the great Altaїr?

 

The assassin didn’t make it easy on him . They weren’t simple love taps with his sword, but complete blows that reverberated up Malik’s arm and threatened his grasp. Altaїr spun and danced just out of sword reach and scaled walls as quickly and lightly as a money. With his only hand occupied, Malik couldn’t climb, forcing him to the low ground. 

 

They went round and round, attack and deflect, the hot sun burning down on them. Malik had to brush sweat away from his eyes. At some point, Altaїr’s hood was pushed back, something he would never allow on a real fight. Their boots scuffed over the flagstone floor. Round and round the fountain, sometimes even through so Malik can use Altaїr’s dislike of water against him. 

 

They fought, unwilling to give an inch or go easy on the other. Malik’s lungs were burning, even Altaїr was gasping for breath. It's surprisingly cathartic, wearing each other out and trading blows. Malik’s arm was burning under the strain, and Altaїr’s normally calm composer was crumbling. 

 

Not that long ago, Malik would have been looking for an opening, a way to kill the Altaїr Ibn-La’Ahad. Now he just wants to prove that he could. 

 

Altaїr slipped, perhaps the only time that Malik will ever see something like it. He used the strength in his legs to kick the sword out of the assassins grip and placed the tip of his own blade at Altaїr’s neck. 

 

Altier chuckled, adrenaline driving the smile on his face. Breathless and sore, Altaїr held out his hands, palms open and empty. “I yield. I yield. You beat me.”

 

Rather than reply, Malik tossed his own sword to the floor and used his now empty hand to grasp the front of Altaїr’s robe and hauled him to his feet. Altaїr’s eyes widened in shock as his back hit a wall. Malik crowded in on him, sealing their lips in a fast, brutal, and possessive kiss. This fight was entirely different, but no less severe. A battle of wills and pleasure; perhaps a little pain. A reclaiming and a branding. 

 

It's proof that they’re both still alive. 

 

* * *

 

 

Malik didn’t spend every waking moment in the bureau. Great amounts of his job kept him out on the streets. He may have had a hoard of informants and a whole underground network of spies and thieves working for him, but the best way for him to know what was happening in his city was to experience it himself. He had to go out and walk amongst the people, to hear what they were talking about and see where they were going. At the end of the day, Malik would always trust his own senses before any others. 

 

He prefered to do this in the morning, when the most people were out and before the city got too hot. 

 

On that morning, there was a growing tension in the people, like the city was holding its breath and waiting, for what Malik wasn’t certain though he has ideas. Jerusalem was a city unassumed to peace. Malik found that oddly reassuring. 

 

Still, he was troubled and turning everything over in his mind as he dropped back through the roof grating into the bureau. He was instantly on edge that the cat wasn't there to greet him. He pulled a dagger from his belt and crept along the edge of the fountain all the while internally berating which ever fool might have given away the bureau’s location. 

 

What he finds calms his racing heart. Stretched out on the pillows in a back corner of the courtyard was a white robed figure that Malik would recognize anywhere. He straightened, sheathed his dagger, and glared at the cat standing sentry over the sleeping Altaїr. “You could have at least warned me.”

 

The cat licks it;s paw without a care in the world before slinking back off to the shadows. 

 

Malik approached the sleeping figure slowly, muffling the sound of his movements as much as possible. He’s surprised to find the assassin in his bureau. He hadn’t been expecting him back for several days at least.  It looked as though Altaїr had ridden hard to get there. His white robes once again were stained with marks of the road and showing signs of wear. The man was sleeping half on his side and half on his stomach with his hooded face buried in his arms. The position struck Malik as oddly childish. 

 

With careful fingers, Malik tugged the hood back revealing Altaїr’s face, slack in sleep. Without the strain and thought that the assassin carries with him in his waking hours, he looked much younger, less careworn. Nothing could hide the scars that are a badge of office for an assassin, but for a moment Malik could see the mischievous boy he knew a long time ago. 

 

At the same time, there was a worn down expression there, too. Large, dark bruises discolored the skin under his eyes. There were new lines along his cheeks and lips. There’s a looseness to his limbs that is evidence of his exhaustion. 

 

Altaїr’s redemption has been a long process and hard work. Throughout it all, he had never sat still; always going from Masyaf to any number of cities. Altaїr rarely rested physically and there was mental strain going on as well. It all lead to Altaїr being far more exhausted than he was likely willing to admit to. 

 

The assassins eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glowing with an odd blue light. Makil had seen Altaїr use the eagle vision before, and it had never failed to send a shiver of dread down Malik’s spine. Fortunately, the glow eased away quickly leaving just Altaїr’s amber eyes behind. 

 

“Safety and peace, Malik.” Altaїr slurred, his voice heavy and thick with disuse. 

 

“And upon you as well.” When Altaїr tried to get up Malik pushed on his shoulders, sending him back to bed. “Go back to sleep.”

 

Altaїr grunted and allowed himself to fall back to the pillows. That didn’t stop him from arguing. “I’m on a mission from Al Mualim. I can’t just lay about all day.”

 

Malik knew. He had gotten the message about where to send Altaїr the morning before. “You’re early, novice. You can afford to rest.”

 

It's a testament to how exhausted he is that the assassin doesn’t have a comeback ready. Instead, his eyes slid shut again and he relaxed. Malik watched over him until Altaїr’s breath evened out. After a moment or two longer, Malik indulged himself by brushing his fingers along Altaїr’s cheek before pushing up to his feet. 

 

Before can make it there are fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling him back down. Altaїr hadn’t reopened his eyes and is, for all intents, still asleep. Until he mumbles, “Stay with me, habibi.”

 

There are any number of things that Malik needed to do that afternoon. He may not have be an assassin anymore, but that didn’t give him permission to be lazy. 

 

And yet, when Altaїr used that word, Malik found himself powerless to fight against it. He grumbles as he settled along side him, but even that made Altaїr smile all the more. 

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was just starting to go down when Malik and Altaїr set out. They had time to kill for a change, and Malik is looking for a challenge. They stay away from the busy streets and any guards or crusaders that might be milling about. They were talented enough that they can cross the city without being spotted. 

 

When they arrived in front of their destination, Altaїr grinned, his face filled with light of a challenge and a simple adrenaline rush. “Race to the top?”

 

The wall they were at is steep and smooth. Little chance for hand holds or ways to pull himself up. Altaїr would have trouble scaling this wall, much less Malik. And that's what makes it fun. The chance to prove to Altaїr that he’s still a novice. 

 

Night was slipping as they launched themselves up. Altaїr was admittedly the master at climbing, but Malik does his best to keep up. Along the way comes the feeling of freedom and exhilaration as they climbed higher and higher. One misstep and they would fall, and at this height, they wouldn’t get up when they hit the ground. That was part of the excitement. 

 

They made it to the roof almost neck and neck, stumbling over the edge with the enthusiasm of boys. With the sun finally below the horizon, the air was cool and refreshing, blowing just enough to ruffle Malik hair and tug on Altaїr’s hood. From up here, all of Jerusalem was spread out below them. The height was dizzying, the drop accelerating, and it was almost as secluded as the bureau was. He and Altaїr would need to keep an ear and eye open for the guards who sometimes patrolled up there. Fortunately, Altaїr and Malek had been trained since the time they could walk to be aware of their surroundings. 

 

Altaїr sat on the edge of the roof, feet dangling over the edge. Malik joined him, watching the land stretched out below. The worries and concerns felt so far removed from them up here. Malik did his best to keep himself grounded, but even he could feel himself getting lost in the heady rush. 

 

He really had missed climbing over the world. Just one of the many things that had been robbed from him after Solomon's Temple. 

 

“I meet an assassin in Damascus. He showed me an attachment he made for his hidden blade.” Altaїr flipped his wrist over, pulled the sleeve back, and exposed the bracer and mechanism that held his greatest tool. Using his finger in the minimal light Altaїr traced out what their brother had shown him. “The blade was here like mine, but alongside it was a hook.”

 

“A hook?” Malik questioned, uncertain where Altaїr was going with this topic. 

 

The young assassin nods enthusiastically, endearing in Malik’s eyes. “A hook and a blade. This assassin was older and he said that he was having trouble pulling himself up when he needed to climb. The hook gave him stability, and he can use his own leverage in a more efficient way.”

 

“Were you asking for a tip for when you too are old? I must say, that's the best example of the your diminishing arrogance yet.”

 

The flat, golden glare from under the shadows of the hood was enough to send Malik into a fit of laughter. Maybe it's the height that loosens his inhibitions. For whatever reason, Altaїr’s unimpressed glare is funny. The mirth itself is refreshing. 

 

Finally, Malik controls himself and motions for Altaїr to carry on. 

 

“I thought, if we could modify it for you.” Altaїr admitted softly, as if afraid of being snapped at. “I thought it might it help you climb better. I know I would hate to be removed from all this ,and I hate the thought that I took that from you.”

 

Malik regretted his laughter. He was touched that Altaїr would think about him. Malik cleared his throat roughly. “I already forgave you for that.”

 

“I know. That does not absolve me of responsibility and I wasn’t lying. You’ve gotten better at climbing, but if this makes it easier and safer than it is worth it, yes?”

 

The Altaїr sitting next to him on the roof is truly nothing like the one who went into Solomon's Temple. Pride, and if Malik is being honest, love burned brightly in his chest. He takes Altaїr’s hand under the guise of inspecting his hidden blade, but it didn’t stop him from curling his fingers around Altaїr’s. 

 

“Tell me more about the hook, and maybe we can work something out.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
